Page 22 of Courting the Vicar’s Daughter

To his surprise, this elicited a laugh from her. The gentleman at his right heard the comment and gave him a look of commiseration. “They do all blend together, don’t they? It’s a reel, reel of six,” he said.

“Thank you,” Harry said, nodding to him. “I am in your debt, sir.”

“Robert Ellsworth.” The man nodded back, then stepped forward to take his partner’s hand. Harry turned back to Miss Ames, waiting another measure before doing the same.

“Mr. Ellsworth rescued you, it would seem,” she said as they stepped around in a circle, her amusement still in her eyes. “You would ask a lady to dance without knowing what it requires of you?”

Harry didn’t bother to hide his grin as he retook his place. “Do the steps really matter so long as I engage the partner of my choice?” Her eyebrows lifted and she turned away, walking around Mr. Ellsworth’s partner to take his hand briefly. When they had the ability to speak again, as he promenaded a few steps down the line with her, she finally answered.

“I cannot make you out, Mr. Devon. Are you flirting with me?”

He felt the tips of his ears growing warm again. “Do you find the idea offensive, Miss Ames?”

She narrowed her eyes at him and stood still, waiting for her turn to move again. “No, I find it unnecessary.”

His heart sunk, but he forced himself to smile. “Can we not be friends?” He stepped forward and took her hand, leading her to bow to another couple, then back to their places.

Although she didn’t deny his request outright, her brow furrowed and the corners of her mouth turned downward. “Friends?”

It is an absurd request. What gentleman asks friendship of a young woman he barely knows? Apparently, gentlemen such as Harry did so. He wanted, very much, to understand Augusta Ames. She was kind and clever. She didn’t care for his wealth, so far as he could tell, and spoke to him with such a candid manner he never quite knew what she would say next. Her thoughtful gray eyes were at odds with her bright smiles.

He’d enjoy flirting with her, of that there was no question, but perhaps befriending her would satisfy his curiosity. For a time.

After they’d moved through another round of stepping around couples, changing partners, and stood facing each other again, she finally spoke.

“I suppose friendship is well and good. But no more flirting, Mr. Devon.” She fixed him with a stern expression, her eyes dark as thunderclouds.

“Agreed. Of course.” Harry nodded solemnly and they joined hands again. The moment felt like the first victory of a war, with the promise of more skirmishes to come. He oddly looked forward to more such battles.

The music closed and Harry waited with her for the next song to begin. When he heard the first strains of music pronouncing the dance a waltz, satisfaction suffused him that he’d secured Miss Ames for the entire set. He grinned at her, and she narrowed her eyes at him.

At least he could claim innocence in choosing a set with a waltz.

Chapter Eight

Though a week had passed since the assembly ball, Daisy still found herself humming the strains of the waltz she’d danced with Mr. Devon. The incorrigible man had fought a smile through every step, which amused and annoyed her in equal parts. Why he insisted on a relationship of any sort with her, she could not understand.

Today she had risen early to get as much work done as she could. Though she wasn’t a fine lady, she still kept a day each week set aside for receiving visitors. Many of the parishioners would come by for a short time, paying their respects to her due to her father’s position.

There would hopefully be a few among them who would listen to her plans for the local school she wished to provide for the girls of the village and farm. While she was capable of beginning the school with nothing more than her wits, it would be better to provide slates and writing implements for the children, and a book or two more than she had. Not to mention the support she would need within the community to help encourage parents to send their children to learn.

“The only book those girls need to worry about learning from is the Bible,” her father had said. “There will be little enough cause for them to read or understand other texts.”

Although Daisy disagreed with her father, she refrained from arguing with him. Hopefully, there were others among the village who would feel similarly to her.

Before the guests arrived, she helped Mrs. Worth put the finishing touches on sweets and she tidied the parlor. Humming as she dusted, and stepping around the furniture as though around couples in a row of dancers, Daisy smirked at her own silliness, then executed a twirl just to feel her skirts lift from her ankles.

Mr. Devon might be a little odd, but he was also kind. Perhaps he is lonely and only wants a friend. She could well imagine it so. Though he had his sister and her family nearby, he hadn’t spent enough time in the area to have formed many close acquaintances of his own age. He may even be restless, staying in one place for so long.

After finishing with her dusting, Daisy went in search of a basket, garden sheers, and her gloves. Fixing a broad-brimmed straw hat to her head, she went out the front door in search of any wayward blooms or greenery that might decorate her table.

There were flowers near the lane. Her mother had planted asters and dahlias years ago. The showy dahlias were in bright bloom, but Daisy much preferred the little purple asters with a few sprigs of waving grasses. They didn’t last very long indoors, but they would do for the day.

Daisy started clipping what she needed, her back to the lane. Until she heard horse hooves clopping along at a fast pace. She straightened and glanced down the path, seeing a gentleman on a tall horse the color of wheat.

It was Mr. Devon. Had they not been near neighbors, she would question the number of times they crossed each other’s paths.

She waited, wondering if he would ride by or stop to speak to her. She wasn’t at all surprised when he reined in his mount a few feet from where she stood and dismounted.